


Stick'im with the Pointy End

by WritingQuill



Series: (30) Days of Johnlock [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, ALL THE FANDOMS, Assassin's Creed - Freeform, Case Fic, Comic Con, Conventions, Cosplay, Deadpool - Freeform, First Kiss, Fluff, Game of Thrones reference, Gen, Homestuck - Freeform, John doesn't know what Homestuck is, Johnlock - Freeform, Loki - Freeform, M/M, Pre-Slash, Slash, Star Trek - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, The Avengers - Freeform, doctor who - Freeform, mario - Freeform, not even I know actually, then actual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 19:51:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingQuill/pseuds/WritingQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day seven: cosplaying </p><p>Sherlock and John go to the London Comic Con to investigate a series of murders. They have to dress up to fit in, and John really seems to like Sherlock's costume (not that he'll ever tell) (not that he needs to anyway).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stick'im with the Pointy End

John looked at himself in the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door and sighed. He adjusted the hem of the white cricket jumper he was wearing, then tugged uncomfortably at the red V-neck. He was fully aware that those striped trousers looked absolutely ridiculous, but there was no getting out of it now. With another sigh, he put on the beige blazer with red linings and the white hat, then left his room, thinking of twenty-three creative ways to kill Sherlock using that cricket bat he was going to be forced to carry around all day. 

When he reached the landing, John looked around the sitting room which was seemingly empty. 

‘Sherlock? Sherlock! If you’re going to make me dress up as the Doctor to go to that stupid convention, you might as well not hide from me!’ John exclaimed, placing the bat by the door and going to the kitchen to make himself a calming cuppa. Just as he was about to take his first sip, Sherlock appeared at the door and John almost spit tea all over himself at the sight. 

Sherlock was wearing a red-and-black skin-tight catsuit with a sort of utility belt and two Japanese swords on his back forming an X. He had what seemed like a mask on his hand and looked utterly uncomfortable to be wearing the outfit. 

‘What are you supposed to be?’ asked John once he recovered his wits, and made a point of _absolutely not staring_ at his friend's… bits and how they looked in such a… tight… sort of… clothing. He coughed. 

‘I believe this character is called Deadpool. He is an anti-hero and known for jumping about and causing havoc. Since we’ll be pursuing a somewhat dangerous suspect this afternoon, I thought this wouldn’t raise many questions,’ Sherlock explained. ‘Besides, with the mask, my face is hidden.’ 

‘Why don’t I get to wear I mask?’ asked John, pointedly looking at Sherlock’s face. 

‘Because you’re the Doctor. It’s humorous because you are also a doctor,’ Sherlock replied with a smirk. ‘I let you pick which Doctor, though, so it’s really your own fault for choosing the Fifth one.’ 

John sighed. ‘No, what you did was ask me what my favourite Doctor was, then after I replied you got me this ridiculous costume and expected me to wear it just to chase a crazy psycho,’ John said. ‘If I knew I had to wear their clothes, I would have chosen the Ninth, or even the Tenth, not the bloody Fifth! I don’t even know why we have to be dressed up, anyway! I thought we were supposed to be covert…’ 

‘Precisely, John. This is the London Comic Con, and most of the people there will be wearing costumes, or cosplays, as they call them, and by joining in, we won’t stand out. It’s a flawless plan.’ 

John sighed once more. ‘Fine. But how will we find this crazy maniac?’ 

‘We have the information of the material of his costume and a few loose descriptions from eye-witnesses. This should be enough, I believe.’ Sherlock then turned to see the kitchen clock and nodded. ‘It’s time to leave. We’ll meet Lestrade and Donovan there at one.’

John nodded, picked up his cricket bat and followed Sherlock out of the building. They were definitely going to attract some attention dressed like that in the middle of the street. Especially Sherlock. And John was not staring at how his bum looked in that skin-tight suit, no way. Nope. 

*

They arrived at the location of the convention and met the officers at the meeting spot. Donovan snorted when she saw them, clearly keeping the mocking to herself, probably due to some telling-off from Lestrade before they got there. Sherlock nodded at them in greeting. 

‘So you’ll just hang about there and look for the suspect?’ Lestrade asked. 

‘We will investigate, yes. Blend it and try to collect information,’ corrected Sherlock with an eye-roll. John simply stood stoically next to him, trying to look like he belonged there in the midst of all the different Doctors and Masters and Marvel superheroes and weird, grey-skinned, orange-horned characters. Seriously, what were those things? Jesus. 

Twenty minutes later found Sherlock and John positioned by one of the stands that sold rare comic books. Sherlock had put on his mask and was now completely blended in with the crowd, some of whom stopped to compliment his costume ( _cosplay_ , John had to remember, because some kid dressed as Worf almost punched his face when he called it a “costume”) while Sherlock simply nodded along and posed for pictures. 

‘Have you seen the kind of material the costu—cosplay was made anywhere?’ asked John as he and Sherlock walked along some stands that sold Middle Earth weapons. ‘What was it again? Blue polyester?’ 

‘Yes, and there was also synthetic black hair, clearly from a wig, near the body of the second victim,’ Sherlock added. 

‘Okay, okay. So, blue material and black hair. And the victims were an eighteen-year-old girl, Tessa McColl, cosplaying as the main guy from a video game…’ John said, trying to remember the details of the victims from the first two days of he convention.

‘Assassin’s Creed, the game was. Desmond Miles. An unconventional character to be portrayed by a female. The second one was a twenty-four-year-old young woman dressed as Loki from the comic book adaptations of the Norse mythology,’ Sherlock said. John nodded. 

‘So this guy is trying to exterminate, what? Girls that dress up as guys?’ 

‘A misogynist, it would appear, that does not appreciate females entering his realm. We can expect him to be rude, probably over-weight, but that is just conjecture, and in his late-twenties or early-thirties.’ 

‘Basically, a sexist dick,’ John said and Sherlock chuckled. 

‘Yes, indeed.’ 

In silence, they continued to go around the convention looking for the culprit, when John spotted a group of girls dressed as characters from a TV show about ghosts or something. He nudged Sherlock on the ribs and pointed at them. 

‘Those girls are dressed as male characters. Our guy could be around here somewhere, looking for his next victim.’ 

Sherlock hummed and nodded. ‘Yes, very well-spotted, John,’ he said and John smiled at the unexpected praise. 

However, it would be difficult to find the misogynistic murder amongst the sheer amount of people there. And costumes! There were Hobbits, Elves, wizards, Stormtroopers, Klingons and various characters from various video-games (John even thought he found Wally, but soon managed to lose him — even in real life, that guy was hard to spot!). Twenty or so more minutes of watching and Sherlock was running, dragging John behind him. They were in the chase now, and John could see who it was, the idea not even having crossed his mind. He was a chubby man dressed as Mario. Of course he was. The blue was from his blue overalls and he black synthetic hair had fallen from his bushy moustache. Now it was obvious. A begrudged nerd who didn’t like the presence of females in his turf. Pathetic, really, John thought as he and Sherlock ran after him. 

Soon back-up as called, and they were both running after the surprisingly agile murderer alongside Lestrade and Donovan. 

‘You are under arrest, sir, stop running!’ yelled Lestrade. Some security guards joined them and then their guy was cornered. Sherlock stopped in front of him with a flourished and pointed his fake katana at the guy. From the distance, a guy dressed as one of those epic characters all clad in leather and fur, yelled “stick’im with the pointy end!” There was a round of laughs from the people who got the reference (John wasn’t one of them) and Mario was arrested. His real name was Justin Levis, 29, worked in IT and lived with his Mum in East London. Somehow John wasn’t surprised. 

*

After it was all done, culprit arrested, paperwork filled, statements given, John and Sherlock made their way to Baker Street. 

‘I didn’t even get to use my cricket bat,’ John complained in mock-disappointment. 

‘That is a shame, it would have been quite hilarious,’ said Sherlock, throwing the mask in the general direction of the sofa and dropping onto his chair. The utility belt and swords had been thrown by the entrance. John hung his coat on the hanger and removed the hat. With all the adrenaline and excitement of the chase gone, as well as the focus on the case, his brain could go back to _not_ thinking about how Sherlock looked in that catsuit, all clinging tightly to his sharp angles and lovely curves. But John was definitely _not_ looking at them. 

As he made his way to the kitchen, John heard Sherlock snort. 

‘What?’

‘Really, John, you don’t have to pretend that you’re not looking,’ he said in a voice that could melt chocolate. John shivered and turned on the kettle, trying to keep his face from betraying his feelings, but clearly failing miserably. Soon Sherlock was right next to him, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. 

‘I, hm, I have no idea what you are talking about,’ John said. Denial was the plan of the day, it appeared. 

Sherlock smiled and ran a no-longer-gloved hand through his curls, messing them up a bit more. 

‘Are you sure?’ he asked. When John turned to reply, his lips were met with Sherlock’s, soft and moist, almost chaste, but definitely eager. Okay, no more denial, then. Just as John was getting more into the kiss, Sherlock pulled apart. ‘Well, I’m tired of this ridiculous costume,’ he said. ‘I think I’ll go put on something more comfortable.’ 

With that, he left. John stood in the middle of the kitchen, dumbstruck, unaware of how to compute the situation. Then Sherlock’s voice came from his bedroom. 

‘You can join me, if you want,’ he said. 

John sighed again. 

Yes, that was a much better plan, the thought as he quickly removed that cricket-style V-neck jumper and went to Sherlock’s bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> Jesus, that is a lot of fandoms. I hope I did justice to the cons, since I've never actually been to one. Also, John is confused by Homestuck because who isn't? I've no idea what that is... Anyway, thank you for reading! You're the best. Have a nice day :)
> 
> P.S. if you draw me Sherlock and John in their costumes, I will love you forever!


End file.
